


Sanctuary

by scrapbullet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din and Luke Raise Grogu, Ficlet, Gen, Hand-Wavy Force Powers (Star Wars), Keldabe Kiss, M/M, Meditation, Not Beta Read, Post-Season/Series 02, Slice of Life, Soft Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: Stifling a laugh, Luke gathers Grogu close and pulls himself to his feet. There’s a cool dampness in the air, the kind that raises goose bumps on the skin. If Luke tips his head back and closes his eyes - which he does, much to Grogu’s confusion - he can breathe in deep and scent the coming rain.Hm. Perhaps he meditated for longer than anticipated.Luke exhales, slow and easy, adjusting Grogu in his arms. “Did you enjoy your ride with Artoo, hm? Where’s yourbuir?”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 243





	Sanctuary

Luke has always been partial to meditation. The Force ebbs and flows through him akin to a river, suffusing him in soothing calm and restfulness, even as he strains his physical body and pushes it to higher limits. Sweat slicks his skin as he stands on his hands, utterly still, utterly placid, diving deep into the waters until-

Artoo lets out an irritated BLAT, and Luke promptly falls down flat on his back to a chorus of high-pitched beeps and giggles. Grogu grins from his perch atop Artoo, showing sharp little teeth and taps his tiny claws against metal excitedly.

Well, there goes his concentration… And a sore backside, to boot.

Somewhere, some-when, Master Yoda is cackling to himself in smug glee. _Pay attention, you should, to your surroundings!_ He’d pronounce, and thwack Luke’s shin with his gimer stick until Luke does as he’s told.

Grimacing, Luke pushes himself upright, reaching out with the Force to pluck Grogu from his seat and float the little womp rat gently into his arms. “Oh, you think that was funny, do you?” Grogu chirps, all agreement. “Well, how about _this_ -”

Using the Force to tickle his student is probably not what Ben or Yoda had in mind, but… Maker, Luke is a Jedi Master, isn’t he allowed to have a little fun every now and then?

Grogu squirms, chest heaving as he sucks in air around chirruping laughter. After a few moments he bats at Luke’s face with a near-squawk of outrage, legs flailing, and so Luke withdraws his Force-powered tickles with a playful grin. “Sorry, sorry, I just couldn’t resist.”

Artoo blows another raspberry, declares his babysitting done, and trundles off into the scrub brush.

Stifling a laugh, Luke gathers Grogu close and pulls himself to his feet. There’s a cool dampness in the air, the kind that raises goose bumps on the skin. If Luke tips his head back and closes his eyes - which he does, much to Grogu’s confusion - he can breathe in deep and scent the coming rain. 

Hm. Perhaps he meditated for longer than anticipated.

Luke exhales, slow and easy, adjusting Grogu in his arms. “Did you enjoy your ride with Artoo, hm? Where’s your _buir?_ ”

Grogu makes a low, grumbling noise at the back of his throat, twisting in Luke’s hold and pointing eastward. He frowns and waves his arms, so very emotive in both body and the Force. His displeasure at having to come retrieve Luke is all too apparent.

Luke hums, nodding. “Ah, at the homestead?”

Grogu reaches - always reaching, his presence so bright and unhurried, coiling with the heat of a supernova - for the pendant around Luke’s neck and coos, contented, as he clutches the shiny mythosaur skull in his hands. It is a twin to the one Grogu has-

(Grogu’s is now dull and tarnished from gnawing and self-soothing, but Luke knows it brings the child comfort to have it, to hold it, a gift from his protective parent held tight when Din is away, no matter how long or how far.)

-gifted after months of trying to ignore a growing sense of _connection_ , of Luke’s gentle teasing and flirtation, and Din’s gradual trust and growing confidence. 

Din Djarin is an enigma, still, but what Luke does know - what Grogu has told him in the midst of their shared meditations - is enough for Luke’s heart to beat double-time, rising like Tatoo’s two suns. Further trust will come. Din is not one to give his name so freely, he just needs time.

Time that Luke has in abundance, these days. 

The homestead on Yavin IV is barely big enough for one, let alone three, but they make it work. The main living space is awash with the heady scent of spices when they enter, and Din - still clad in his armour yet sans helmet - is chopping something green and fragrant in the open-plan kitchen, a casserole bubbling heartily on the stove.

Truthfully, it smells like home.

Grogu squeals, exuberant as ever at the sight of his _buir_ , and Luke sets him down to waddle with surprising quickness to his parent, hugging Din’s boot.

“Su’cuy!” Luke exclaims, knowing full well that-

“Your accent is terrible.”

Ah. Yes. Luke’s accent _is_ terrible, but Mando’a is quite the convoluted language!

Humming, Din embraces a gleeful Grogu, stepping close. “Su cuy’gar,” he murmurs with a voice full of honey, and presses his forehead to Luke’s in a sweet Keldabe Kiss.

With the mouth-watering smell of tiingilar in the air and family in Luke’s arms, what else could this be but home?

_Yaim'la._

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a courtesy of mandoa.org <3


End file.
